


just a few ways to say it’s okay

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Humor, Post 3x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:12:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: Rebecca explains why she is in a terrible college shirt and that tree-climbing metaphor is taken a little too far (if Heather is understanding it correctly).





	just a few ways to say it’s okay

**Author's Note:**

> We have less than twenty-four hours before we get the new episode and I just wanted to write down a fun little headcanon about the Stanford shirt before it gets totally thrown out.

****It’s Sunday morning when the front door of the Bunch-Davis household swings open and bounces into the opposite wall, shaking the frame of their newest art addition.

Heather looks up from her coffee as Rebecca stalks through the front door wearing yesterday’s jeans, a zipped hoodie, and a deep scowl.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Bad night for tree-climbing?” Heather asks, mildly concerned. The details of Rebecca’s new hobby remain, for the most part, unknown to Heather. She knows Nathaniel’s face and the fact he is Rebecca’s ex-boss, which is loaded enough, but Rebecca seems fine and has mentioned discussing the relevant details with her therapist and Heather isn’t inclined to probe further.

Rebecca plops herself into the chair opposite Heather, slinging her purse under the table with enough force that it skids and bounces off Heather’s foot.

“Actually, it was great!” Her voice is bright and a full octave higher than usual. “Really great! Lots of climbing. Reached the top branches multiple times.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Ew. Like, go you, if you mean what I think you mean. But still, ew.”

Rebecca nods as if she’s not really hearing and fiddles with her zipper, forehead creased in thought. Heather rises from her seat and heads to the kitchen to retrieve Rebecca’s usual mug. She fills up at the coffee pot before sliding it over to her roommate.

“Oh! Thanks,” says Rebecca, giving Heather a thankful-but-quizzical look, one eyebrow up, as she retakes her seat.

Heather shrugs. “You work at a bar long enough, you learn not to leave conflicted people without something in front of them.”

“Huh,” Rebecca eyes her cup. “This is coffee, right? Or are there some special ingredients that I should be aware of?”

Heather makes a point of rolling her eyes. “I promise I didn’t spike your Folgers.” She watches as Rebecca takes a tentative sip. “You’re in a weird mood today. You sure tree-climbing was ok? Nothing fell down?”

“No.” Rebecca groans and lets her head fall forward on the kitchen table. She rights herself and takes a deep breath, like she’s prepping for a case, which Heather still finds totally hot, boyfriend or not. “Nothing went weird with the tree-climbing, seriously. Nathaniel was just being a dick about me walking out in one of his shirts again.”

“Mhm,” Heather hums, because she knows about the (rare) cycles when Rebecca does laundry and she hasn’t missed the sudden appearance of too-large t-shirts in the basket. “I can understand that. Isn’t this, like, the fourth one?”

“I returned his dress shirt,” Rebecca points out, tapping her fingers against the mug. “And he only sleeps in the others anyways. He doesn’t  _need_ them. Look, they’re comfortable and sometimes, it’s just easier to stuff your blouse in your purse until you get home.”

“You could bring an overnight bag,” suggests Heather. “Or just, you know, set an alarm when you sleep over.”

“Like a routine?” Rebecca pulls a face. “No way, that would make this…tree climbing more of a thing than it already is.”

Heather doesn’t even bother to voice a response to that mess of a sentence, just sips at her coffee and stares unblinkingly at Rebecca.

Rebecca wags a finger at her. “Oh no, I’m  _not_  getting into that. Not yet. Back to the subject, I was able to…persuade him that I just needed to borrow one of his shirts for today, because the buttons on mine got pulled a little loose—”

Heather groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Less detail,  _please_.”

“…long story short, he agreed to lend me a shirt, on the condition he picked the shirt I walked out in.”

“Uh…”

“I know, right? He has no idea how to dress women either, which led to  _this._ ”

Rebecca stands from her chair and gives a short, sharp tug on the zipper of her hoodie, exposing a plain gray shirt with red lettering.

Heather squints and cocks her head to one side.

“Who’s ‘Stan’ and why does Nathaniel want you to wear a shirt with his name on it?”

Rebecca looks down at her chest and rolls her eyes as she pulls it open wider.

“Oh, ‘Stanford’,” reads Heather. “Got it. That’s not that weird. I was expecting some kind of tacky graphic.”

“No, it’s much worse. I went to Harvard. And Yale. No way am I gonna be caught dead walking around in some West-Coast-Ivy-wannabe brand name on my boobs.”

“Right,” drawls Heather. “And you totally only thought up that phrase after you walked out the door?”

“Nope!” says Rebecca proudly. “I told him to his face.”

“Hm. That must have gone well.”

“I thought so. I mean, then he said some shit, so I said some shit—”

“Sounds mature.”

Rebecca glares at Heather, annoyed.

“ _Anyways_ , he gave me a challenge for me to take the shirt of my choice. I lost.”

“And this is the result…?” Heather trails off, giving Rebecca her opening.

“My options were to either wear this shirt in public for one full day, or under my clothes for three.”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “Of course, you swallowed your pride and won’t be sweating into that shirt for three days?”

Rebecca places her hand over her heart as if wounded. “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

“Okay,  _that’s_  weird.”

“Shut up. It was a weird conversation.” Rebecca returns to her seat, toying with the shirt’s neckline. “Isn’t it stupid? Like,  _so_  stupid.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Rebecca jolts and the smile falters and flattens to a thin line, as she looks back up to meet Heather’s gaze.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You totally were. It’s fine, you know. You should have something that makes you happy.”

“But I shouldn’t be,” insists Rebecca. “Happy about this stupid thing, I mean. I’m stuck in a shirt for an inferior school. I should be offended. I can’t say this enough, it was such a  _stupid_  challenge.”

“What was the challenge?” asks Heather, before her brain catches up to her screaming  _“bad idea!”_  right as Rebecca opens her mouth. “Wait, actually, if it has anything to do with tree-climbing,  _don’t_  tell me.”

“If only.” Rebecca pouts. “No, he used his height against me. That stupid, stupid sexy sequoia is way too tall.”

“Wow,” says Heather. “You just made a tree sound like a term of endearment.”

“I did not!” says Rebecca, offended. She scrunches up her face, replaying her words back to herself, then blanches.

“No, you’re right, I did. Oh my god.” Rebecca slumps back in her seat, stricken. “Oh my  _god._ ”

“Are you okay?”

“No. Ugh, no,  _feelings_ ,” spits Rebecca, rubbing her hands over her eyes, contorting her face. “Stupid bets like this aren’t a hookup thing, huh? Is this oxytocin again?  _Shit._ ”

“Maybe?” says Heather, a little alarmed. “But also, like, maybe not. You talked to Dr Damn about him, right?”

“About Nathaniel in general? Yes, but this specifically? No, but I think I’ll have to.” Rebecca covers her face with her hands. “ _Ugh_ , I thought was doing so well, too.”

“I don’t think you’re doing badly,” hedges Heather.

“I’m not so sure.” Rebecca takes a deep breath and straightens back up in her seat, regaining her composure. “But I needed that. Thank you, Heather.”

Heather shifts in her seat, uncomfortable at the fervency in Rebecca’s tone.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cautions. “I mean, if you’re worried, definitely talk to Dr Damn, but, like, I don’t know what’s going on with you guys and that’s by choice, so I might be missing something.”

“No, of course,” Rebecca takes a deep breath and seems a little calmer. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna spiral. It’s just another day in the life of Rebecca Bunch in recovery. I’ll be fine. But let’s not talk about me anymore,” Rebecca makes a shooing gesture with her right hand, as if she can physically bat away the specter of her ex-boss and whatever unsexy feelings are attached to him. “It’s the Sunday debrief. Tell me about your night and Hector’s sweet ass.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Okay, please don’t ever say that phrase ever again. But it was good. We watched  _Get Out_  and screamed a lot. Nothing too out of the ordinary—”

Heather pauses, tilting her head in consideration. She had meant to ask Valencia something, initially, but Valencia’s dislike of Hector did not promise any enlightening answers.

“Actually, there was something that came up that was a little weird.”

Rebecca pounces on the distraction without any prompting.

“What was it? You totally don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But tell me!” Rebecca scoots her chair closer to Heather’s and props her chin in her hands, like a child anticipating a treat. Heather watches her sidelong, considering.

“All right. You know that dating advice podcast Hector has with his mom?”

“Vaguely? Why?” Her eyes suddenly go round. “Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Did she invite me to guest star? She did. She wants to interview us together and see if Hector and I are incorporating any tips from previous episodes into our relationship, as well as give us some special tips she’s been saving for the occasion of Hector getting a girlfriend.”

“Oh  _no_ ,” breathes Rebecca, clapping her hands over her ears, her shock cutting straight through horror and right to awe. “That is terrible. That is  _so_  awful.” She scoots her chair a little closer and leans in, eyes still wide. “Are you gonna do it?”

Heather opens her mouth to say that she hasn’t made up her mind yet, takes another look at Rebecca’s too bright eyes, and abruptly switch tactics.

“I mean, maybe? I thought it might actually be a good promotional opportunity for Miss Douche, if nothing else. I even have a pitch written up that’s perfect for an audio-only audience.”

“ _Oh my god_.” Rebecca gapes, and then covers her face, unsuccessful in smothering her laughter. “Heather, that’s  _horrible_.”

“I know,” says Heather, hiding her smile behind her mug. “You’re not the only one who might be having a weird relationship dynamic shift here. And at least your sequoia has his own apartment.”

“True,” Rebecca hums. “There are some pretty nice platforms there.”

“Again, good for you, but I  _don’t_ need to know.”


End file.
